It's Greek to Me
by Cackymn
Summary: A long day ends with some DiNozzo-style distraction. Evidently real men do more than soak. Bubblefic, and by that I mean bubble BATH fic. Category winner for humor! Heavy slash - read or run, its up to you...


**AN:** Thanks to **AmyH** for inviting me into the BubbleficChallenge and to the other participants:** MyShame7, dinozzosprobie, gibbsandtonysbabe, and summersquares.** Thanks to all readers, old and new!** Disclaimer**: What a Shame **Spoilers:** Not really, just the mention of soaking in that one ep.** Feedback:** I would dearly _love_ it!

**It's Greek to Me**

No murder, no mayhem, no Mossad, only wayward sons of Uncle Sam, venial sins, and Vance. Nothing against the Director, he has a job to do, but Gibbs has been apart from his team, and apart from Tony, for at least a couple days too long. Budget meetings are nearly the worst possible medicine for his temper, and his little troupe gets sulky without him. He doesn't need spidey-senses to know that DiNozzo is annoying the shit out of McGee, and that Bishop is perplexed, still on the outside. Gibbs is the last to leave save Leon. At least tomorrow he'll have the welcome if dubious privilege of listening to DiNozzo instead of the bean counters.

Check that. He'll have that privilege tonight. He pulls in beside Tony's car, pleased but secretly hoping the younger man is not too wound up and can keep it down to a dull roar. It's quiet when he gets inside, a good sign. Ditching his jacket, Gibbs dumps his pockets, pulls off his polo, climbs the stairs, and heads for the master bath.

He opens the door and is startled out of his fatigue by a cloud of steam and a god-awful, floral, feminine reek. His bathroom is not only a sauna but smells like a Turkish whorehouse. His antique claw-foot tub could be a commercial for someone's washer overflowing.

The next thing he sees beyond the escaping steam and the insolent bubbles is a blinding flash of teeth, a pair of cheeks gone rosy with pleasure or possibly heat-stroke, hazy green eyes all lost to luxury, and spiky brown hair alive-looking at the top and curling wetly against a glistening neck at the bottom.

"Oh, hey Gibbs!"

"DiNozzo...what the _hell_ are you doing!"

"Silly question, Boss. I'm soaking."

This is incredible.

"Soaking is something you do in_ water." _

"There's water in here."

"And enough perfume to take the paint off the walls!" It's the most ludicrous conversation he's had in recent memory, a record.

"Don't knock it 'til you've tried it." The younger man is rising from the tub, wrapping a towel around his waist, (where did that come from?) stepping out, and waving-shaking a bottle of gunk at Gibbs all at the same time. The bottle, or the gunk, is pink. It's obscene.

"I know," Tony says, ingratiating. "You're speechless."

It's true. Words won't come. DiNozzo grins and blushes like he's accepting applause and Gibbs' glare is being watered down by the sweat already stinging his eyes. A bubble pops beside his ear and he emits a strangled growl.

"Pretty cool, huh? Greek Isles Getaway. It's supposed to be even better than Sea Foam Safari."

The bottle looms and so does Tony. He's practically waltzing towards him now - silly, slippery, and without caution. The towel is damp and clinging and Tony is lit up like a neon sign and Gibbs still can't get over what the kid has done to his bathroom.

Why does he always think "kid" in situations like this - although this is a new one - when Tony is treating him to something unselfconscious and incomprehensible? Great. Now he's getting sentimental in the middle of DiNozzo's sudsy Mediterranean nightmare. Mustering the last of his ire in the second before Tony makes contact, he keeps his face blank and refuses to look anywhere but Tony's eyes, even as soapy fingers tease their way beneath the collar of his Tshirt. Tony is close now, purring, voice pitched too low for his grin.

"C'mon, Gibbs, don't you want to find out who put the Mighty in Mighty Aphrodite?"

It's too goofy by half and it means nothing, but Gibbs doesn't care because now he can smell Tony through the gunk and the younger man's lips are at his ear and his breath is intoxicating like usual. He looks down at the bottle that's tapping against his stomach. Tony is holding the thing with inordinate affection.

"Exactly what else are you planning on doing with that, DiNozzo?"

"Well you see, Boss," Tony begins, and Gibbs can't quite hide the smirk this time. "It doesn't just make great bubbles, it feels really good too...y'know?"

DiNozzo's sincerity is as naked as his chest, and long day or no, Gibbs thinks there isn't a diamond in the world that could scratch what's happening to his dick - but there's still a problem.

"I am not going to work smelling like that, Tony."

"Jeth-ro..." Like he's talking to a child. "You can go back smelling like whatever you want. I will rub you with coffee grounds and then you can go roll in the sawdust, as long as you get in this tub with me right now."

_What the hell_. As persuasive as an enthusiastic and determined DiNozzo can be, it's the "Jethro" that does it. Gibbs gets with the program and closes his eyes, expecting Tony's skillful hands to start undressing him, but the tub has drawn Tony back like a magnet. Gibbs opens his eyes and DiNozzo is sitting there just as before, grinning and fondling his bottle of goo.

Gibbs shakes out of his clothes, curious but well on his way to being pissed off again. "You sure you need me for this, Tony?"

"Oh yes, I'm sure," Tony says hastily. "You know what the Greeks are famous for?"

DiNozzo's segues are nothing new, and Gibbs won't be left behind. He climbs in and settles down. "Yogurt?" he asks sourly.

"Good one. Go on."

"Olympics."

"Now you're getting there."

Jesus the water is warm. The mountains of foam are embarrassing but the preposterous stuff has a caressing feel and their legs are sliding over each other and Tony's toes are teasing at him where it matters most. He returns the favor, watching the younger man pour a stream of the shiny bath product into his hand.

"Turn around. Get your back against my chest."

Tony giving the orders is no stranger than the situation as a whole, so Gibbs folds up and turns around into the big body, then stretches his legs out again.

Tony is still talking. "What about eros? Eros means love."

"I know."

"The Greeks were famous for man-boy love."

"Don't see any boys here, Tony." The younger man is rock-hard against his back.

"Tell me about it."

Tony drops his hand below the water and opens his fist. He closes it again and Gibbs' eyes roll back in his head. It's pure silk. Tony is holding him with a handful of the gunk and for just a second Gibbs can't even breathe. Tony kisses then sucks on the back of his neck and now Gibbs knows he loves it, even the smell. Embarrassment gone and forgotten, he grabs the sides of the tub and moves his hips along with the rolling squeeze of Tony's hand.

"Damn, DiNozzo, what's in this stuff?"

"Emollients."

An indrawn breath. "That Greek too?"

"Latin. I looked it up. It means to make soft." A nip to the ear and a gentle rub low on the belly.

"Missed _that_ one by a mile. Now _you_ need to turn around."

Tony has started shaking the way he always does when he's holding Gibbs' cock, but he unclenches his legs and the two men begin the process of getting turned around in the tub yet again. They meet halfway, on their knees, and now they're not teasing but kissing, holding each other tight, hands running all over, tongues delving deep, slick velvet touching between their bodies, all glide and spark and sweet wet friction, and it's almost too much.

_"Now,_ Tony."

And Tony is already there, hands on the front lip of the tub, head bowed, long muscled arms braced and ready, Gibbs kneeling behind him.

Gibbs tries and fails to remember the last time he was this hard but he takes some time to touch the beautiful man in front of him, because he's not selfish enough to forget that Tony loves his hands and he's not too far gone to remember how lucky he is. He strokes Tonys flanks and thighs, he squeezes the nape of his neck and nips at his back. His fingers flutter at the younger man's waist and when his strong hands caress and knead his buttocks Tony calls out to him.

"Gibbs!_ Do it!" _

Gibbs slips a soapy finger in, Tony sighs with relief then shudders and rocks with renewed need as Gibbs plays with him. Gibbs is loving the feel of Tony's clean, slippery hole and the look of the round cheeks he's about to be between. He savors the anticipation a moment longer, then lines up and presses in just as the desire is peaking, just as the tingling of his cock flares back through all his muscles and out along every nerve. He fills Tony and fucks him hard before they calm themselves.

After a while Tony's voice drifts back over his shoulder. "Jethro?" So soft. "Have I told you lately how much I love your dick?"

Another long slow slide in and out. Gibbs' breath is high up in his throat, right against the roof of his mouth. "Hope it's as much as I love your ass."

"Mmm... More"

"Don't know if that's possible, Tony."

"No...I meant _more."_

Gibbs grunts and gives him a good hard shove. It hits home and they're off to the races. Gibbs is past mid-thigh in warm water, almost up to his waist in bubbles, his hold is firm on the hips in front of him, and he's surging into Tony's perfect ass. It _does_ feel good. He pinches his own right nipple, hard, sharpening the fiery pinpoints zinging across his skin. He finds Tony and strokes him exactly how he likes it best. Tony is keening, the rigor in his back says he is almost in orbit, and Gibbs is aware, just barely, of his own moving body. He's not above feeling satisfied at his strength - no, far from it - because Tony has begun gasping, almost sobbing. He tightens around Jethro and the pull and drag is blinding sensation that tears at Gibbs from the end of his cock to the top of his head. He's spread out over Tony now, has to get his tongue on a spot between Tony's shoulder blades because the taste of his sweat changes when he's coming, and then Gibbs is buried to the hilt and giving it up with one continuous moan.

There is afterglow and there is quiet, appreciative laughter, there is more hot water to ward off any uncomfortable chill, but there aren't very many more words. Tony will likely pick up that duty tomorrow. There is bed and finally rest, and the bathroom has lived to fight another day. Sometime before daylight, Tony gets up to leave and go by his own place, but not before lying on top of Jethro, kissing him both awake and back to sleep.

* * *

Gibbs hits the office decked out in full armor - a steaming cup of coffee and his don't-fuck-with-me look, because as usual he isn't the first to arrive. McGee's Probie-like diligence is staring him in the face.

Tim sniffs and looks around. "Good grief, he actually did it."

Time for a scowl. One more second and McGee is going to realize he and Gibbs are alone in the bullpen. "Who, McGee? Did what?"

"Tony...he showed me this_ stuff..._he was going to so...never mind."

Bishop walks up, brisk and focused, then stops as though someone has grabbed her. Her nose wrinkles and her brows come together, but at least she's learning not to ask the wrong questions. The elevator dings.

"McGreek!"

"Oh, no."

"Ohh, _YES!"_ Tony breezes in smelling like about a ton of gardenias and Gibbs is off the hook, saved by the bell, but this is far from over. Tony swoops past each of them in turn, too close were it anyone but DiNozzo, and Gibbs risks it, a sub-vocal growl as the younger man swings by.

"What'd you do, smear on an extra layer?"

"Can't get too much of a good thing..." Tony hums back at him without parting his lips. He turns and smiles winningly at Tim.

"Ask, McSparta!"

McGee's world-weary sigh doesn't hide his pleasure at the familiar game. "Okay, Tony, I'm asking. How was your Greek Isles Getaway?"

"Epic."

A box appears in Tony's hands as if by magic. "I've honored the occasion with a trip to Costa's Bakery. Baklava, for everyone!"

Gibbs breaks out his second glare of the day and it's only seven-thirty.

Tony plucks the sticky, flaky squares from the designer box and deposits them on fancy little bakery-provided napkins, one for each desk. He arrives last at Gibbs and places one in the palm Jethro extends without thinking.

"DiNozzo, there's enough sugar in these to choke a war-horse."

"Mare or stallion?"

"Like it matters?"

"It matters." Tony lifts an eyebrow and smiles, but Gibbs' glare deepens to a frown when he notices that the box of confections is down to its second layer.

The younger man's smirk morphs into a mumble of chagrin, all happy and unconvincing. Jethro blinks - Tony is handing him the victory.

"Uh, you probably have something to say about that, Boss..."

_Ya think?_ Gibbs' sigh is invisible except for in his eyes as they meet DiNozzo's, and his barely-there grin is pure evil.

"Oh, yeah. Have another one, Bubblebutt!"

The End.


End file.
